[PLOT] That's no ordinary rabbit

[northrend]

Date & Time: All day Friday, December 14th and onward.
Location: Initiate Hold
Characters: All
Summary: The plague has taken hold and there are rampant, angry undead critters running around! Better get rid of them quick, before you attract the Scourge Horde.
Warnings: Undead attacks, localized around cute woodland critters.

[The death tolls of all the woodland animals had come around the same time. Some lasted longer than others, but for the most part, it appeared that most of the sickly animals had passed sometime in the middle of the night. The next morning, transports would awaken to find their furry friends looking...well, less than furry. Their eyes glow a sickly yellow, patches of fur fall off their body, and they continuously cry for help.

Help from whom? You?

Or the group of rampaging ghouls charging toward you?]


[ooc: Original plot post is here!. If you would like me to NPC ghoul attacks in your thread, please mark your subject line with three asterisks. (***) Otherwise, feel free to do it amongst yourselves! Please note that I won't be able to NPC threads until tomorrow afternoon.]

Comments

mia feydo, mia mia mia feydo mia mia feydooooo

[sharpe]

[ Oh for Chrissake- can't the woman run away from that walking corpse, at least? It's leaping towards her, and Sharpe squints his eyes. He wishes he's Hagman at this moment, because Hagman has always been a better shot than he is. But Sharpe feels his eyes sharpen, his breath evening out. He can't miss, and his hand steadies on the rifle and he fires again.

The corpse explodes, its head burst from the shot that drives itself into its head. Gore splatters everywhere, and Sharpe winces as he sees some of it land on Mia. Oh, if he knows anything 'bout that woman, she's not going to be happy about it.

He shoves his rifle underneath his jacket, pulling his shako harder over his head. When he's sure his eyes and his gun aren't going to be drenched by rain - the only things that matter in a battle, and this is a matter, no mistake, and the bastards can't even be arsed to be decent enough to atack soldiers - he runs over towards her, leaning over until he's somewhat blocking her from the incessant rain. ]

Walking corpses, ma'am. [ Dryly. ] Plenty of 'em 'round here, and they've been coming along since morning.

[ A beat, and he cocks his head. ] You saw nothing?

[feyted]

( Mia doesn't know how to answer him at first. She's still processing the fact she was on her derriere in the rain, wearing galoshes, with what was once inside someone's head now splattered on half her face, her right side, and a nice chunk of something that might have hair on her foot.

She's staring at that with wide eyes when he's leaning over her.

What is going on?! She wants to repeat the question out loud, but the pounding of her heart and the constriction in her throat makes that difficult.

Mia slowly looks up to Sharpe... and swallows. )

I've been in the office all day.

( If it's a bit squeaky and vaguely defensive, that has a lot to do with not being able to fully process any of this as real right now. )

I'm sorry, but -- ( Now is her mental cue to move, and she starts by rolling her ankle of the foot carrying a piece of -- no, she wouldn't think on that -- hoping to dislodge what was on there.

It didn't move.

In fact, as she stood, still not finishing her statement until she'd gotten to her very undignified feet, she tried getting it off her foot again. For the moment avoiding looking at the headless corpse spending a great deal of time chilling with them, Mia focuses her attention on Sharpe as she slams the toe of her rainboot down on the ground. ) -- are you meaning to tell me we're suffering an invasion of the walking dead.

( For someone who channels ghosts, that's... )

We're in the future, not the middle of a horror movie set.

( There's a dead man at your feet Mia and they were made that way by Sharpe, this is really just like -- okay, so that thought has her looking at the dead guy.

Oh.

Oh that is...

That is a rotting arm.

That jogger that she ran into and that tried jumping her had a significantly rotting arm.

And he wasn't bleeding... he was congealing. )

Oh god.

( Stumbling back and away, one hand coming up to her mouth because she feels her stomach disagreeing very strongly with her toast from this morning right about now. )

Oh god, you shot a dead man.

( Her hand comes away from her mouth with some of the gross bits that had been on her face, and Mia has to literally fight to keep from having her knees give out on her. It's not that this is her usual mode of operating, but this? The dead possessed, certainly, if they could; the dead lied, felt, did everything but live since they were beyond that part of the big picture.

But they weren't supposed to be back in their decomposing bodies trying to run about town causing -- causing the goddamn reinvention of the horror genre! )

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe looks at her wryly. She's keeping her calm better than most civilians he knows. Most people splattered by blood and gore tend to scream, even soldiers wearing uniforms. He grabs her arm - nothing can be done about the bits and pieces of what is once a person lying on her now, really - and he tugs her upwards, urging her to stand up. ]

I don't know what you mean by 'horror movie set', ma'am, but yer right. There's dead men walking 'round here.

[ He would be more surprised, really, but there's plenty of strange things that he's seen since he'd come here, so what's another one? At least this he knows how to deal with, because the answer lies in his rifle - it's an enemy, and he can shoot it. In fact, he should, because it looks like they're preying on people.

Sharpe has seen plenty of strange things in his life, but corpses preying on and wanting to eat the living is still something new. Still, it's no stranger than a woman wearing a short, plunging dress who isn't a whore, or a bunch of people call themselves imps and elves and whatever next while looking the part. ]

C'mon now, ma'am. You've got ta get out of the streets. There's more of 'em coming.

[ He probably shouldn't have said that. Sharpe looks up, and he sighs quietly when he sees another group of those shambling corpses. Good thing is that they move slow unless when jumping. Bad thing is, he only has a single damn rifle. At least he's not going to run out of shots. ]

Here, ma'am. [ He jerks his head towards a nearby alley. ] Get over there. Hide, and I'll take care of these bastards.

[ He doesn't check if she's obeying him. There's no time for that. Sharpe ducks underneath another awning, leaning against the wall as he brings his rifle to his front. The ritual is the same: tear the powder pack. Pour. Spit the ball in. Ramrod. He shoots. Repeats it three times because this time the group is a little smaller.

There's pieces of corpse on the streets. Sharpe gives a moment of pity to the poor bastards who have to clean it up tomorrow. And he looks over to Mia, wherever she is. ]

You've got a place ta go?

[feyted]

( Shock is an amazing state of mind. Numbed from most of the reactions she might have had, Mia instead looks to Sharpe as he keeps speaking, about to object that the dead couldn't be walking, there weren't that many channelers in the city.

It's with unnatural calm that she walks to the alley as he asks, politely flinching as the shots begin again. Once there, she tries to brush more of something that was once inside somebody off her coat. Mia succeeds in smearing it around, finally looking away to rest one shoulder against the wall.

Oh. Look. Bodies are losing parts. It was nothing like on screen, with he dramatics and the extra blood that made no sense coming out of bodies in the first place. Yet it's so visceral like this, disturbing on a level Mia doesn't choose to name before she looks away.

Heart racing, eyes wide, it takes her a few seconds to process what Sharpe is asking. When she finally speaks, she braces one hand against the wall. )

Ah, my... apartment, we can -- in the Hold.

[sharpe]

[ She's never seen anything like that before, Sharpe reminds himself. There isn't anything remotely like this before. This is new to him too, the walking dead, but he's at least seen the insides of men's bodies; at least he knows how they look like when they have half their heads blown off, or the sinews of their legs hanging in the air after a cannonball takes off everything below. She hasn't had anything near this; she's just a woman, and a woman who hasn't seen war.

Sharpe sighs quietly to himself. He looks down. There's bits of half-rotting gore on his clothes, but it isn't much. Just splashes here and there. It's clean enough, he guesses, and he takes his jacket from her shoulders, and tugs at her coat. ]

Get it off yerself, ma'am. C'mon.

[ When that's done, he takes off his shirt and then shoves it at her. Sharpe scrambles a bit, trying to keep his rifle dry with her coat- and he manages to drop it. He turns his back to pick it up- and really, Teresa once joked that his back looks like a washing board, what with the white, raised scars. There are many, many of them, crisscrossing from side to side, covering his entire back until his waist.

Sharpe picks up the coat and hangs it over his rifle. ]

Let's get going.

[feyted]

( She's only sure toward the end of that process that something has changed, and she admonishes herself -- of course it has, Mia! -- as she registers as well that the man who'd mistaken her for a whore at first meeting was helping her out now and dressing her in his clothes.

She has to wonder if that's not a property of this world, and the amusement at how absurd this is, paired with the residual anger at being mistaken for a prostitute is what she holds on to in order to pull herself together. )

Go where?

( She tells herself not to look at his back, not once she realizes what she's seeing -- and yet she stares. There's a history of pain and uncertainty there, rightfully or wrongly gained.

No way to say right now, and her own question is what motivates her into motion. )

To the apartments. Come on, I'm not running around with you half naked and me covered in -- ( she swallows, grimacing, and shoots a look down the street at where the zombies had been walking. Unmoving dead cover the ground, but she can gloss over and ignore them in favor of other things.

Survival is a nice distraction. ) -- it's a nice gesture, but nothing is going to beat a proper bath, and if you'll pardon me for saying so, I'm not the only one here who can use one.

( FOcusing on the manageable details always helps. In the face of what she doesn't understand, it's powerfully grounding. She reaches out -- as it to take his wrist -- but thinks twice, gesturing instead as she takes off in his shirt, in her absurd yellow galoshes, and not giving a damn now that it's raining or misting or perhaps frogs are falling out of the sky. Mia Fey has a mission, and the undead and the horror can all wait.

Along with Maya. Her heart skips a beat, and all she can think in that moment is that Maya has to be safe. She is safe. She lives with Barnaby and Samus. If there are two safer people to be near in this place... I can't think of them. Maybe Sharpe, she decides, checking that he was with her instead of taken off like a shot, But I wouldn't want her to be where his brand of sense comes most in handy. )

[sharpe]

[ She doesn't mention about the flogging scars, and Sharpe smiles wryly to himself about that. Definitely stronger than he first thought she'd be, he thinks - ladies with her education would have gasped by now, or maybe even fainted. The last woman who had seen them was Lucille, and she was a soldier's wife. Her dead husband might have belonged to Napoleon, but she knows soldier's scars well enough, and she made no sound. Jane, however... Sharpe shakes his head out, dismissing the thought as he follows her lead.

A bath, huh. He looks at himself. There's plenty of blood and gore on his skin, but it's nothing that staying in the rain for a little while more won't fix, especially since the rain doesn't seem to stop. But he supposes that this is one of the strange things about people in this place as well - their obsession with cleanliness. He wonders what some of the soldiers in the South Essex would have thought of that, especially those who think that baths chip away at your soul and leaves you empty.

Sharpe doesn't believe in that. He is an officer, after all, and superstitions have no place when one is in such a position. Sharpe doesn't have that kind of privilege anymore.

They reach the apartment building quickly enough, and Sharpe pushes open the door, practically shoving Mia inside. His boots are muddy and there's probably blood and gore on them as well, but he barely notices as he keeps his back to the door, looking around him. They are in the Hold, but he doesn't find that to be particularly reassuring - and when a zombie rounds the corner, he reloads his rifle again and shoots it in the head. The sound rumbles throughout the building, and there's a small cloud of gunpowder around his head as he steps inside and slams the doors shut. ]

What floor do you live in, ma'am?

[ He's still shouting. It's not because he thinks she's scared. It's because if he doesn't, he can't hear himself. Gunshots are deafening things. And he's slinging his rifle up his back and drawing his sword, looking around him.

He's a soldier, and he's not going to let down his guard just because he's reached a stronghold - if this is a stronghold at all. ]

[feyted]

( She mumbles something once they're inside, digging around in her pockets for her keys. For a moment she thinks she may have left them in her jacket, but the bulge under her hand when she pats her thigh tells a different story.

Jingling as she pulls them free of her pocket, Mia realizes her answer isn't going to be entirely reassuring. )

The first floor!

( She half shouts it back, for much the same reason as he does -- she's not right next to the gun, but loud doesn't become soft just for five feet of general difference. )

Apartment 108, down the hall!

( Zombies don't break through windows, do they? Regardless, armed and ready with her key, she manages not to fumble the lock and open the door, calling out when she's barely over the threshold. )

Scatty! Roslyn? Are you here?

( Her eyes flick to the living room window. It's intact. One down, three to go. )

[sharpe]

[ The room's empty. Damn, it seems that she's pretty concerned with her roommates. Sharpe won't mind going out after them if she asks him to, but she'll have to ask first. Right now, he looks apologetically at the floors as he treks mud all over himself. He hasn't seen many maids and such around here, but he doesn't much envy their job right now - and he's a bit sorry, really, for making it more difficult.

So he sheathes his sword, bends over, and slips the boots off. His socks aren't any cleaner, really, but at least there's no mud treks for those. The living room window is intact, and Sharpe draws his sword again as he steps next to her. ]

Better keep with me, ma'am.

[ It's a damn shame when even a home - a temporary one, but still a home - becomes a battlefield. Sharpe hisses out a breath, wishing for proper battlefields, proper lines drawn. Bugger walking corpses. He'd prefer a man in an opposing uniform in any day.

They check the rooms and the windows are intact, but Sharpe isn't particularly reassured. ]

You've got some wood 'round here? [ He looks around him - the only thing that seems choppable is the bed, and he wryly thinks she's probably going to disagree with that course of action. ] We'll have ta board up the windows, if those corpses try ta break through 'em.

[feyted]

( Empty besides the two of them. Mia moves for her desk, pulling out the tablet in there and turning it on as Sharpe informs her of the next stage in zombie preparedness.

Why, she asks herself as she grimaces, Did I end up living on the first floor when the zombie apocalpse finally hit? She's seen these movies. They always end remarkably poorly, particularly if the zombism is contageous.

Was it?

She places a hand on her hip, looking to the window, then back to Sharpe. )

We're talking about boarding up five windows. We're not going to have enough to hurricane proof this place, let alone zombie proof it.

( Still... )

Besides, I don't have a hammer and nails. Do you?

( Yet nothing's been broken into already, so she wonders... )

They haven't broken in yet. God knows how they're tracking people down... by sight? Can't be smell, they'd break in everywhere if it was.

( Don't mind her babbling as she types a brief message on the tablet and sends it out. )

If they're attracted to movement... we should pull the blinds and keep the lights off. Tack up blankets if we want a total blackout?

( Mia looks to Sharpe. Seriously, neither one of them looks particularly great right now, but her plan might sort of make sense. Yet Mia realizes she's looking for some kind of confirmation from this centuries before her time man. )

[sharpe]

[ What God has to do with this, Sharpe doesn't know. This seems more like the devil's work than anything else, and he thinks briefly of the man who introduced himself as Lucifer before he dismisses it. His enemies are the ones placed in front of him, and he doesn't have the time to go haring off on a wild goose's chase to visit some guy who might or might not have something to do with a bunch of walking corpses around.

Instead, he looks at Mia for a long moment, and at the windows. No hammer or nails, and he doesn't think his sword makes for a good woodcutter's axe. He sighs quietly. ]

Staying here'd be a foolish thing ta do. Come on, ma'am. Follow me.

[ He walks back out of the room. His own is on the first floor as well,and he doesn't have hammer or nails. But he's been looking through this building, and the thirteenth floor is empty - probably due to some sort of superstition or something. Sharpe isn't going to think much about that. Instead, he glances back at Mia, shifting his rifle further up his back. ]

There's rooms up top that's empty. We can stay there fer a bit.

[ And he looks down the hallway, and- ]

Quite a bit of stairs ta climb. Can you climb well, ma'am?

[feyted]

They're stairs, Sharpe, not rock-faces.

( If she sounds sour, she is sour -- she hadn't wanted to follow him, but had last relented while picking up her tablet and shoving it under one arm. Her keys jangle in her hand and Mia looks back down the hall, glad to see the door had shut when she'd pulled it along behind her. )

I can climb.

( She catches up, stalking ahead on shorter legs to tug on the door handle to the stairs. See? She was raring to go! )

[sharpe]

Be as it may, but it's quite a bit of stairs.

[ They can take the lift, but damned if Sharpe is risking his life by stepping into a huge empty box that supposedly goes up and down. He doesn't know how it works, or if it's safe, and he's not going to add one more risk to the pack.

He bounces on the balls of his feet for a moment before he starts up the stairs. He keeps one eye on her, one on the road in front. ]

Safest ta go ta the roof. I can start shooting at the buggers from up there as well.

[ Hopefully. ]

[feyted]

( Mia trucks along, grimacing as the water she hadn't noticed in her galoshes earlier squeak and squishes around her feet. She'll need to get them off, or risk -- terrible pruning? Ha!

You've got weird priorities, Mia Fey.

This whole place was weird. She smiled, grimly determined. She needed to hear back from Maya as soon as possible. Her little sister, out with those zombies roaming the streets? )

I've never seen you reload.

( She hesitates when she hears something, but it turns out to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

Mia shakes her head, and continues to climb. Fifteen stories... fifteen flights of stairs? Thank god she was in shape! )

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe shoots her a grin from his shoulder. ]

That 'cause yer not paying attention, ma'am. Three shots per minute's what I can do, and I'm fast enough ta be missed if you aren't paying attention proper.

[ It's thirty flights of stairs of some sort. Sharpe knows where the roof is anymore, and he slows down a little, reaching over to take her elbow. It's quite a lot to walk, and most people aren't infantrymen, used to climbing hills and mountains in nothing but their boots. The bottoms of his feet are harder than some rocks with all the walking he does.

(He's an officer. Technically, he can get a horse to ride. But horses are expensive and he prefers having his feet on the ground. The damned things have never liked him anyhow.)

He looks at Mia for a long moment. ]

You worried 'bout someone, ma'am?

[feyted]

( Okay, fair point, she had no idea what he did, and when to gun got louder she admittedly looked elsewhere. May to use her powers of observation!

His question shakes her out of her own mental worries, hugging the tablet closer to herself as if it's a viable link to the people she cares about. )

My little sister. I haven't heard from her since last night.

( It's a belated moment to notice he has her elbow -- she blinks, then pushes herself to keep up and exceed the pace she'd otherwise been keeping. )

[sharpe]

[ He notices her increased speed, and he can't help but admire her a little bit for that. Most educated women he knows will start complaining that he's going too fast, and even camp followers start clamouring on the pack mules or supply carts after a while. Sharpe keeps going at his pace, keeping an eye on Mia to make sure she's not already panting. ]

Yer sister, eh? How old is she?

[ He nods at the tablet. ]

You've called her yet?

[ He thinks that he's thankful to the Initiative, in a way. At least they haven't brought Lucille here. Or God forbid, Hakeswille. Or Jane. ]

[feyted]

( She's breathing audibly, but she's keeping herself together well in spite of it. )

Yeah, but I'll need to call again. The roof, you said?

( Mia's fingers tap on the handrail as she continues up. )

I'll call her again from up there. She'll be safe.

( There's no real choice in that. Even if people were "brought back" by the Initiative, she didn't want a reason to ever expect she could end up having a reason to challenge her own sister's spirit. )

She's eighteen now. She's a smart girl.

[sharpe]

[ He slows down his steps. Not very visibly and not immediately - just enough that she'll just find it a little bit easier to keep up with him as the seconds pass by. Not much more than that. ]

Are you telling me that, or yerself?

[ He winces a little as those words escape him, and Sharpe sighs quietly. ]

Look, you've got something ta show me what she looks like? I can go find her once I get you up ta the roof.

[ Though it'll leave her pretty defenseless on the rooftop. Oh well. He's only one person, goddamnit. ]

[feyted]

Let me try and get her on the line when we're up there. If she's safe and sound, there's no reason for you to put yourself in danger leaving again.

( There's more firm resolve in her voice this time than before. It's the sort that brings her to the door leading out on the roof, with the broken lock from before either of them had arrived. )

Guess I should be thankful some repairs take more time than others.

( As she opens the door, not certain she should simply walk through. What if someone else had the same idea?

Getting shot herself sounded like a less than stellar way to end the day. )

Thank you, Major.

[sharpe]

[ If the door has been locked, Sharpe is going to shoot it. But as it is, there's a broken lock, and he looks at it. It won't be much help if a horde suddenly burst through the only exit, but- well, Sharpe just have to keep a sharp ear on any possible footsteps, won't he? ]

Don't thank me just yet. Stay back.

[ He grabs hold of the hole where the knob had been, pulling the door open. He ducks behind the doorframe- alright, that side is empty. And he steps out of the door, his rifle cocked and loaded, and Sharpe stamps his feet hard. Hard enough to dislodge some of the dust on the roof's floor, and he lets the sound of the hammer cocking backwards echo loudly.

Silence. No footsteps. No sound of breathing. Sharpe looks at Mia, giving her a look to tell her to stay put before he goes over to the other side. He checks the nooks and crannies of the rooftop before he goes over to the railing, aiming his rifle downwards even as he looks down and takes one more round around the roof, checking down below to see if there's anyone hiding down there.

No one. Christ, they're the first to have such an idea, or some sort. He trots back to Mia, the hammer of his rifle back in position. ]

You can come along now, ma'am. There ain't anyone here.

[feyted]

( Mia was already dialing Maya, speaking at her tablet when voicemail picks up. )

Hey Maya, give me a call when you get this message. I hope your day hasn't been half as exciting as mine has so far.

( She attempts to keep her tone light, smiling at the non-responsive tablet before ending the connection.

She glances back up, walking after Sharpe with a glance up at the heavy grey skies. )

We're the only ones here? That's surprising.

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe hears the tail-end of it, but he respectfully keeps a distance until she stops talking. He follows her gaze up to the skies before flickering back to her. ]

Aye. Makes me think what can be so bad 'ere that people's avoiding it.

[ Or maybe it's just that they're not braving the stairs or the height. If not for the zombies, Sharpe wouldn't have come up here either. ]

Never stops raining here, does it? [ He looks down at his clothes. ] Don't even got the chance to wash me clothes in this damned weather.

[feyted]

They do have washing machines, you know.

( Mia pulls her raincoat around herself more tightly, wandering toward the edge of the rooftop. )

They pay you enough for at least a change of clothes to wear while the rest washes.

( Hell, he would wander around naked if he wanted. It wasn't illegal yet around here. )

[sharpe]

[ Sharpe leans against the railing, looking downwards. There aren't any shambling figures right at those moment, but he's keeping his eyes down anyhow. But he's still listening to Mia, and he snorts at those words. ]

I've seen those clothes they're selling, and none of 'em make any sense. [ By which he means: they don't look familiar. ] 'sides, I'm a Rifleman, and I ain't going ta wear other clothes when me uniform's good enough.

[ Pause, and he turns over to grin at her. ]

I don't smell that bad, do I?